


I loved you then

by airafleeza, ignisgayentia



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: (Ignis voice) I can't believe I've done this, Ari tagged this, Blind Ignis Scientia, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Altissia (Final Fantasy XV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-12-01 23:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20932289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airafleeza/pseuds/airafleeza, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignisgayentia/pseuds/ignisgayentia
Summary: Despite everything—level Ignis and his air of untouchability, Prompto’s own raucous nature disguising his insecurity—they’re friends.





	I loved you then

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ignisgayentia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignisgayentia/gifts).

> OK, so................... my sweet pringle, Ari, wrote me the best R76 fic ever for my b-day last month. My handsome chicken bruh-gget plays OVW w me on a weekly basis, but isn't really in the fandom and therefore spent 1,000 yrs fretting about whether everything was OOC or not. As a challenge, I told them anything they wrote could not be any more OOC than if I tried writing for their main fandom--FFXV.
> 
> With stubbornness as my drive and fear in my heart, I took on my self-imposed challenge to write Promnis.
> 
> Have I ever played FFXV? No. Have I been following Ari on social media since 2014 and somehow absorbed some obscure knowledge/spoilers of the game? Yes. I tried my best, made Ari read this, and then they went and fixed up anything I did that was too OOC/non-canon compliant. Ari also added some stuff to make the fic better, so bless them. All the good parts are theirs. I am but a vessel.
> 
> The title is taken from the tender song by Group Love, ["Tongue Tied"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1x1wjGKHjBI)!!!
> 
> I would like to thank the wonderful [Ari](http://ignisgayentia.tumblr.com/) for this opportunity to curse myself. And for their patience as I make them sit on the airbnb bed w me while posting this. Love you bby. <3
> 
> My buds............................. enjoy...........................

If he's being honest, the hour since Noctis and Gladio left has been regretfully anticlimactic. It's not like he expected to be able to fix… this. Not in sixty minutes, and certainly not with a well-aimed joke and light-hearted banter. Loss doesn't work that way, Prompto has to remind himself. Pain doesn't either. And Ignis is in a lot of pain.

It doesn't seem to be his eyes—not anymore. The scars don't hurt him—a little bit of magic and the pain went away. It's nothing sensory, Prompto thinks, but rather a hurt of his own making. Ignis hesitates in a way he never did before when he had his sight. There are moments when he starts to go through the motions of old, familiar actions before he realizes these are tasks no one expects him to do while he recovers. Every time after, he drops back down in his seat quietly. No one says anything until Noctis shoots an empathetic look at Prompto’s apparent distress and Gladio changes the conversation. They wordlessly comfort Ignis in their own way, but Prompto hasn't found his yet. He wants to say something, anything, to make it better. He has to.

As his brain scrambles for the magic words, Ignis, meanwhile, is reclining on his queen-sized mattress with his shoes and jacket still on. The suite isn’t like the usual digs they used to get when they stopped somewhere while on the road. With everyone getting their own rooms, Ignis’ is set up with his bed close to the bathroom. A TV is set up at the foot of his bed—Ignis listens to it, foot bobbing and arms crossed as the man on the screen blares on about what number to call if shoppers want to get an amazing deal on golf clubs, as if the tragedy of Altissia hadn’t happened and everything is normal.

It comes as a shock when Ignis starts arguing with no one. From the chair Prompto planted himself in, he fails to catch it the first time, but the second time he’s successful. The older man is complaining about the set of golf clubs displayed on the screen, claiming it's a bad deal for that particular brand. The boundless disgust in his tone for something so mundane causes Prompto to laugh.

"What?" Ignis frowns, face gone severe in seconds. Stoic, as if everything was always so dire. It used to intimidate Prompto when he was younger and wanted to leave a good impression on the prince with the no-nonsense friend at his side, but now? It's hard to be afraid of a guy who snorted once at one of Prompto's bad jokes. He apologized right after, as if that was supposed to make the whole thing disappear. Unlucky for him, Prompto remembered. 

The hilarity of the situation relaxes him—Prompto slumps down and relaxes in his seat across the room as he sighs, shaking his head and chuckling to himself. This isn’t their last night on this planet, despite what the urgency in his gut makes him think. He isn't planning on leaving Ignis' side anytime soon. A hundred-thousand more chances to help Ignis find his way will come. They’re friends, afterall. Despite everything—level Ignis and his air of untouchability, Prompto’s own raucous nature disguising his insecurity—they’re friends. The last dregs of laughter rumble out of Prompto’s body and he wipes his eyes. There’s nothing to be afraid of and no need to get restless.

"Prompto." His name has that warning edge he's come to expect. "Something humorous?"

Prompto stands, sure to scuff his feet on the carpet before he sits at the edge of the bed. "You, Iggy! You're complaining about prices like you're someone twice your age, man."

"I'm hardly complaining. It was an observation."

"You’re unbelievable." Prompto rolls his eyes, leaning over with a smirk. He elbows Ignis playfully—a mistake. Ignis’ body tenses as his arm shoots out, immediately locking onto Prompto’s wrist. The grip doesn’t hurt, but the sudden flash of movement puts him on alert.

They breathe in unison for beat before Ignis releases him with a jolt. He apologizes, quietly and professionally, for being startled. Lying back down, he seems to be feigning composure. It doesn’t work very well. The atmosphere from before has been vanquished, and in its wake is the tension Prompto has come to know well. Only this time, it’s clear Ignis feels it, too. He’s tense from the shoulders down, arms rigid. A charade of the moment before, the moment they lost.

“Hey, no no no. I wasn’t thinking! You don’t have to be sorry, dude,” Prompto insists, sliding further up on the bed and sitting, knees parallel to Ignis’ arm as Prompto leans over him. “I should be the one sayin’ sorry! I guess I just. Uh. Forgot? Believe it or not.” He scratches his head nervously. 

Ignis sighs. “It’s—fine, Prompto. You’re fine.”

Prompto wants to argue, tell him it’s not okay, but when he opens his mouth, it’s as if all the air has been squeezed out of his lungs. A pang of hurt bolts from his gut to his ribs. It feels like his chest is going to cave in on itself—which he knows is ridiculous. Its name doesn’t appear to be guilt or pity, but something entirely different. He’s never hurt for someone else like this before. Not Noctis, not Gladio. It’s new, and when Prompto thinks he knows what this ache means, the realization is bright and breathtaking like a rising sun. 

Somewhere along the line, Ignis’ laughter and mannerisms had endeared himself to Prompto. When Ignis stood behind the three of them, it was always Prompto’s eyes that sought him. Standing like a sentinel, concentrated and aloof. It was silly to think he was the only one to see Ignis in these moments, as if he had disconnected from their group and gone somewhere else. When Prompto watched him, it was easier to imagine that wherever Ignis had gone, Prompto was there with him. To reel him back if necessary or just be at his side.

“This is ridiculous,” Ignis says.

Prompto turns to him rapidly, the bed squeaking with his jolting movement. He hadn’t said anything out loud, right? Was Ignis reading his mind? All of these were reasonable explanations to Prompto until Ignis shut off the TV and put an end to the shopping channel banter.

“Not exciting enough for you, Igster?” Prompto can’t help but grin. He knows Ignis can’t see it—all for the better, probably. 

Ignis reaches over, feeling the nightstand, and sits the remote down. “Hardly.”

Besides watching TV, there is little else to do in the room. No food yet—that’s what Noctis and Gladio are supposed to be getting—which means no snacks to keep his mouth preoccupied. He doesn’t even want to bother with the radio. Who even uses those things anymore? Even if he finds a decent station, he doubts Ignis would like anything he listens to.

On the small table in their room is his camera. He’s been meaning to go through the photos and delete the ones not up to par. His memory card is getting full, after all. Prompto gets up and takes it back to the bed. He hesitates before deciding to lie next to Ignis. Not touching, but the concept of sharing a bed is thrilling to him like a secret might be.

There’s movement on his left, and when Prompto turns to look, Ignis is on his side, face turned in Prompto’s direction. “Fiddling with your camera again?”

“Just going through some photos,” he tells him, flicking through the first few images. They are clouds and empty sky, friends and lush green places. There are a few of terrifying bugs Prompto has never seen before. What’s not pictured is how instantly after getting his shot, nine times out of ten, the bug flew directly for him. The accidental photo after one particularly alarming encounter is blurred, but not distorted enough to hide his friends’ reactions. Gladio is clutching his gut, laughing so hard it looks like he could topple over. Noctis is either shoving or helping him stay up—it’s unclear. In the background, Ignis is laughing, hand near his face as if to cover it up. His green eyes are the most piercing part of the photo as they gaze at the person behind the lens.

Prompto plans to keep that one.

“Anything new?”

Prompto startles, jumping to the next photo. More scenery—this time it’s the desert. The red clay provides a nice contrast to the cactuses in the foreground. One of them is about to bloom. Without thinking, he starts to hand over the camera to let Ignis browse through them himself and stops halfway. _ Stupid, stupid_, he thinks. _ Way to go, man. Put your foot in your mouth again, why don’t you? _

“Sorry,” Prompto says, arm dropping like a deflated balloon. Whether or not Ignis felt him moving and pieced together he was going to be handed the camera is unknown. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking again.”

A light touch ghosts Prompto’s wrist, a mirror to Ignis’ actions earlier. To say it’s disappointing when Ignis slips his hand away and presses it back to his own side is an understatement. 

Ignis drums his fingers on his hip for a beat before asking, “Will you describe them to me?” In return, Prompto breathes. The tension is gone, replaced by an energy that makes his skin alight. _ This_. He can manage this.

The request is simple, but to Prompto it feels like the whole world. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!!! For anyone who is interested, Ari writes about these fools quite often!! If you're coming to me for Promnis content, you will starve. Find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/airafleeza) and [tumblr](http://airafleeza.tumblr.com/). And find Ari in a Promnis jail of their own making on [twitter](http://twitter.com/ignisgayentia) and [tumblr](http://ignisgayentia.tumblr.com/).


End file.
